Ben tossed and turned in his bed, he couldn’t sleep despite the fact that he was undeniably tired. He stumbled out of bed and realized that his mouth was cool and minty, as if he had slept with chewing gum in his mouth. Slipping into the bathroom he shut the door before turning on the light. Sydney was a light sleeper and he hated to wake her. Why did he feel so full? Ugh. His stomach seemed to be packed tighter than a 5 pound bag filled with 10 pounds of potatoes.
His hands rummaged around his bare stomach while his eyes continued to adjust to the bright light. Releasing a slow yawn he looked into the mirror. It was then that he noticed the brown substance surrounding his mouth. Puzzled, he moved closer to the mirror for a better look. Without thinking about it he flicked his tongue out of his mouth and lightly licked his lips. It was sweet and tasted a lot like chocolate. He gingerly touched the dark substance with the tip of his finger and it was indeed sticky. Where did this come from he thought? Then it hit him – his daughter’s Girl Scout cookies, the ones that were already sold, the ones he wasn’t allowed to eat. So when did he eat them? In his sleep?
Making his way through the living room he stubbed his toe on the coffee table, he stifled a yelp, he didn’t want to wake Micker Mackers and Bug Bug – especially while his face was covered in chocolate. His stomach was still hurting and it continued to protrude like a beach ball. Turning on the light in the dining room he saw something that frightened him more than a poltergeist or the the living dead. Lying on the floor, scattered on the top of the table were dozens and dozens of empty cookie wrappers. Empty Green boxes of thin mints lay next to empty boxes of Dosie-Dos, a red box of Tag Alongs was ripped open, it’s contents MIA.
Ben reached out and picked up an empty box and when he touched it he felt a jolt flash through him not unlike a jolt of electricity. Instantly he felt compelled to eat another roll of Thin Mints. He rifled through the heaps of empty boxes hoping to find one unopened. He shook box after box, red, yellow, green – they were all empty. His desire became more intense despite the fact that his stomach was already filled to capacity. His desperation turned frantic and he started whimpering like a rabid monkey. He wheezed and panted, he jumped on the table and pounded his chest. He kicked the empty boxes and continued his search until there in the midst of the scattered debris he found an unopened box of Samoas. Eureka! He ripped into the box with his bare teeth and clawed it open with feverish hands. He pulled himself to a corner and gorged on the chocolate coconut goodness despite the fact that his insides could barely contain another morsel. With every bite his stomach bulged out threatening to explode, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. He was driven by a need, a primordial hunger that he could not explain. He ran into the kitchen and opened up the fridge and found a carton of milk. He drank greedily from the open container and continued to eat the Samoas.
Sydney awoke to the sounds of whimpering. She reached out for Ben and realized that she was alone. Assuming that he had gone to check on their newborn son Benji, she laid there for a moment listening. Then she heard it. The dull thrud of something… something hitting a wall? She didn’t need intuition to tell her that something was wrong. She flung herself out of the bed and headed toward the dining room. She opened the door and noticed that all of the cookies had been eaten. Her favorites, the Tag-Alongs, were all gone. She went from the dining room and into the kitchen and the sight before her shocked her deep within her core.
Ben stood there, his pale white skin covered in patches of unruly hair. White striped boxers pulled up around a nearly distended belly. Crumbs and chocolate covered his face. Milk dripped down his chin and he drank straight from the green milk carton.
Enraged she almost couldn’t contain herself. “Ben, how many times do I have to ask you not to drink from the carton?!”
Ben stopped drinking and looked at Sydney – he had been caught with his hand not in the cookie jar, but in the cookie box. He sheepishly lowered the carton and wiped his chin with his forearm. Without waiting for an answer Sydney continued, “And another thing, is it too much to ask that you save me a box of Tag-Alongs?”